"For writers in the next half century and beyond, a comprehension of how creative writing, neurology, biology and our environment interact will be essential for a successful career."
- a link to the full article is in my bio and on the Descriptionari "About" page.
- you can email me using either AngelaCarolineAbraham@gmail.com or AngelaDescriptionari@outlook.com for a quote on tutoring and/or editing services.
Much love!!!
Angela Abraham (Daisy)
Upon the leaves of evergreens, radiating in fine plume, was a pillow of white. It was as if when winter came, mother nature had tucked each one in with the finest eider-down.
My soul rides aboard a paper parasol, eyes wide to the dreaming land. Every vivid hue is where pastel meets neon haze. Into the air I whoop, my lungs singing in anti-thunder boom. Then from my brain comes bubbles of happy rainbow swirl, each of them a snow globe that is to winter quite unknown.
"It turns out, as obviousness would have it, that our brains (especially those of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in this case) have been teaching us neurology through comic books and the movies that have come from them."
Full article linked to from my profile, click "abraham" below, awesome!!
"Adjective and noun associations are worthy of our consideration because by careful linkage of words such as 'black' with strong emotionally positive words (such as in 'black heavens' and 'noble black night') we can start to program subconscious bias from the brain by creating a background neurochemistry that is more positive. This keeps the prefrontal cortex more fully operational and encourages more empathy in both thoughts and behaviours. Thus society develops better through their own choices and evolves. This is part of social evolution and this kind of awareness in writers is essential."
Ignorant of the desert bloom’s beauty, the scorpion lurked. Parched sand and shrivelled plant-death were all the same to him. Blind to the shimmer of light warmed land, no fragrance did he detect. Through life-thickened armour, came not a murmuring of the world beyond. He bore his venom tail in high jaunty fashion, as if it were both coat of arms and standard bearer. As days became weeks, as weeks blurred into a yawn of time, he was the monarch of that fractured rock.
As living shadows the bats swooped, cooly bathed within guardian rock. They chirped and played, wings stretched wide, these masters of the night. Their family, thousands strong, heeded twilight’s call. As armour-less knights, the cold currents they rode as eagles of the night.
From the safety of the shadows, she watched. Remaining hidden was the only guarantee of seeing another day, yet it also guaranteed his end. Then who was it that would wake up tomorrow? Not this version of her, not a version of herself she would ever respect or forgive. To go out there alone, however, would most certainly mean two body bags instead of one. So, she raised the silent alarm, prayed her friends would arrive in time, and struck a bold pose in the streetlamp’s glow.
It was a brassy wind-up clock, the kind with a butterfly key. It sat there in crepuscular rays, bathed in fingerprinted dust. Tick tock. Tic tock. How tinny was its heartbeat, how small it was in the vastness of the room. No batteries required, simply a regular and repeated twist, crunching its cogs back into tension's repose. At least it's singing told us that he'd been here in the last day or so.
"When we make daily choices that are emotionally indifferent, the sort that the money-nexus makes faux-virtues of, we build our capacity for emotional indifference at the direct expense of our capacity for empathy, and thus the conflict between money and love is laid bare."